


My Saving Grace

by LilyOD



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-08
Packaged: 2017-12-26 01:31:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/959998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyOD/pseuds/LilyOD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To the world Grace McQueen and Harry Styles are the perfect couple. Adored by fans and seemingly her boyfriend too, Grace has a blessed life. But behind the smiling fan photos and paparazzi shots there is twist. Grace is not really Harry’s girlfriend, she is simply a veil hired by management to cover his womanising ways. But as the lies grow and the façade becomes deeper, the lines between genuine and fake become blurred.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story so let me know what you think

I bid goodbye to Katie, the girl who I had been sitting next to in the lecture and started to make my way towards the small student-run café across the road. Katie lived in university accommodation nearby, so she did not have to hang around on campus during the two hour wait for our next lecture. She had offered to let me come back to her halls so I would have somewhere to go but I’d politely declined. We had just been given the title for our first essay and I wanted to get started. I still lived at home with my family in Finsbury Park, but if I was to go home now I’d just have to turn straight back again once I got through the door. No, I had planned to go to the café, grab a bite to eat and start the essay.

I entered the café and was immediately glad to be out of the cold. It was October and already the weather had taken a turn. I browsed what they had on offer briefly before picking up a chicken salad sandwich and a can of coke. I flashed my student card to the cashier, who gave me 15% off. The café was near empty, apart from two boys, obviously students, crowded round a laptop, discussing something heatedly in hushed voices, and a pretty middle aged woman sat with just a coffee gazing out the window. I made my way towards the back of the room, choosing to sit on one of the comfy looking sofas. Opening up my laptop I pulled up the essay title ‘How does Greek oral poetry effect modern poetry today?’. My heart had sunk when I’d read this title, the poetry aspects of Classical Studies was probably the least favourite. Oh well, better to get it out the way now. I started to research various journals and jotting down notes in between taking bites of my sandwich. After about an hour I had a good solid basis, enough to start planning my essay. My back hurt from hunching over my laptop so I sat up properly and stretched, arching my back and putting my arms over my head. I scanned the café as I did this, the two boys had now left and there was now girl sat at a laptop near the door. The woman by the window was still there, except she was now staring intently at the new girl. I finished my stretch slid down on the sofa a bit again, preparing to start writing again. Just as I was lowering my gaze the woman by the window caught my eye. She smiled at me, showing a row of perfect white teeth. Unsure as to what she was smiling at I gave her a brief smile back and turned to my laptop. Out the corner of my eye I could see the woman get up and make her way over to me, clearing her throat when she was standing right in front of the table I was working at.

 

“Hi,” she said with a broad smile as I looked up at her. “Do you mind if I…?” she asked, gesturing at the empty seat next to me on the sofa.

“Erm, no,” I replied, unsure as to what she could want from me.

“Are you working on an essay?” she said, peering over at my laptop. I had the instinct to turn the screen away from her but resisted. There was something about her that was putting me on edge.

“Yeah,” I said plainly.

“I guess you’re studying at King’s College, am I right?” I nodded in response, eyeing up the woman. She was young, in her thirties I guessed, attractive and very well put together. Her shoulder length brown hair looked as if it would survive a tornado.

“What are you studying? Are you a first year?” All her questions seemed to be coming from nowhere.

“Classical studies, and yes, I just started.” She seemed impressed by that and nodded slightly.

“So you’re eighteen?”

“Yes.” She nodded again, looking even more pleased. She gave me a huge smile and started to laugh, “You’re probably wondering who the hell I am!” she said chuckling. “Sorry about all the questions, there’s just certain criteria we have to get through.”

“Criteria?” I asked, still baffled as to who she was and what she wanted.

“My name is Lisa Partridge and I’m a scout for a company called Modest Management, have you heard of them?” She seemed unfazed when I shook my head, “That doesn’t surprise me; we’re not one of the usual model management companies.”

“Models?”

“Yes, we’ve recently branched out. We’re looking for models, well, a model. But not just someone stunning, even though you are by the way,” she said giving me a quick wink, “We’re looking for someone with brains too, and a personality.”

“Oh,” was all I could think to say. Lisa smiled that charming smile of hers, “What is your name, if you don’t mind me asking?”

My initial instinct was to lie but I couldn’t think of a plausible name fast enough so I just told her the truth, “Grace, Grace McQueen.”

“Well Grace,” she said, that smile never leaving her face, “you seem like an interesting girl, not to mention you’re gorgeous, and to get into King’s College, you must be brainy too. We’d love to have you come down to our studios for a chat.”

I stiffened in my seat; this all seemed too weird, too staged. “I don’t think I can, I have uni work to concentrate on and plus, I don’t really want to be a model. But thanks for offering.” I smiled awkwardly and hoped that might be the end of it.

Lisa shrugged, but she was still smiling, something that was creeping me out, “Well if you’re sure. But I might add that it would take much time away from your studies, probably just a few days a month, and the rewards would be handsome. Not just money, although that would be plentiful, you’ll also get taken to some of the most incredible places in the world, free of charge,” she nattered, giving me a knowing look. “Why don’t I leave you my card and you can give me a call if you change your mind? Although I wouldn’t wait too long if I were you, this offer is too good to be around for long!”

She put a business card next to my laptop on the table and got up, “I really hope to hear from you soon Grace,” she said, giving me one last one of her smiles before exiting the café. I eyed the card suspiciously as if it just jump up and bite me. Shaking my head I tried to clear my brain of that exceedingly weird encounter and concentrate on planning my essay, but I could only stare blankly at the screen while my mind wondered back to what Lisa had said. Why on earth had she approached me? I self-consciously tucked my shoulder-length blond hair behind my ears. I was average looking I’d say, not ugly, but nothing special either. I was only average height too, 5”6, not nearly tall enough to be a model. I had blue eyes, but they weren’t dazzling, just plain blue, and my teeth were slightly crooked, so I never showed them in photos. I was slim but had a slight muffin top when I sat down in jeans, not a favourable trait in models. Anyway, I told myself, I don’t even want to be a model; I want to be a writer of classic novels. After musing for a while I realised it was almost time for my next lecture, and I’d agreed to meet Katie outside 5 minutes before. Packing up my laptop I glanced at the card Lisa had left on the table. I wanted to leave it there, but I couldn’t bring myself to. Just in case I told myself, slipping in into my coat pocket.


	2. Chapter Two

I rushed out of Finsbury Park tube station and headed towards my house, my hood pulled nearly over my eyes. It was only 12 in the afternoon but already the sky was a pale shade of grey, rain lashing down relentlessly. I moved quickly, passed all the expensive London town houses belonging to rich businessmen who worked in the city and towards my street. London was fascinating. It must have been one of the only cities in the world where stupendous wealth could live alongside abject poverty. As I neared my streets the fronts of the houses got shabbier and vined walls gave way to graffitied ones. I liked where I lived though. My family were not rich by any means, my father was a builder and my mother a healthcare assistant, but we had enough to get by and I always found that where we lacked money we made up for it in happiness.

As I approached our modest three-bedroom house I felt relieved that I would soon be out of this rain. I had only had one lecture this morning so I now had the rest of the afternoon free, and I hoped to get that essay I had started last week out the way. My parents would be at work and my three younger brothers Tom, Rory and Sean would be at school, meaning I would have a few precious hours alone, I might even have a nice hot bath while the bathroom was free. This thought made me walk even faster against the rain and within minutes I was at my front door. I fumbled with my keys for a few moments before sliding it in the lock at letting myself in. Relieved, I flung my bag down and headed to the kitchen to make myself a well-deserved cup of tea. As I approached I was confused to see the kitchen light was on, maybe my mum had left it on in her rush to get the boys off to school in time? But as I entered the room I was shocked to see my dad sitting at the kitchen table, staring down at the empty mug in front of him.

“Dad, what are you doing home?” He seemed to have been completely oblivious to my presence until that moment as his head shot up and he jumped slightly.

“Oh Grace, I didn’t hear you come in,” he said, his voice sounded scratchy. This worried me and I immediately got a tight feeling in my stomach. Something must be wrong; my dad never took time off work, not as long as I could remember.

“Dad what is it, what’s happened? Is it they boys? Is it mum?” I asked, moving towards him, putting my hand on his arm.

My dad closed his eyes and shook his head, he looked exhausted. “No, the boys are fine. And so is your Ma. Come on,” he said gesturing to the seat beside him, “you better sit down.”

I pulled out the chair and took a seat. The tight feeling in my stomach got worse, my dad’s eyes were rimmed with red, it looked as if he had been crying. I can’t ever remember seeing my dad cry before.

“Now, you’re an adult now Grace, so I’m going to speak to you as one. Things are bad. We’ve not had much work coming in at the firm recently and they’ve been struggling to pay bills and wages. Today the bosses came to us and told us they had a list of people’s names that they had to let go. My name was on that list. Now, I get paid for the remainder of the month, and me and your Ma have some savings too, but it’s not much. If I can’t find work again soon Gracie we’re going to be in big trouble.”

I stared at him, unable to form any words. My dad had lost his job. The same job he’d been in since before I was born.

“I’m not trying to scare you,” he continued, “but between bills and food and your uni fees and car insurance and all those kind of things, we’re going to struggle.”

I felt a pang of guilt, I received a government grant but that barely covered by tuition fees, my maintenance costs were forked out by my parents.

“I’ll drop out and get a job!” I said hurriedly, “I’ll help out I promise, I’m sure I can get a job in a shop or something!”

“You’ll do no such thing!” my dad said abruptly, “You’re a clever girl and I won’t see you wasted in a dead-end job like me. I’d sooner sell my soul than see you stopping your education.”

I felt so helpless I just wanted to burst into tears but I knew that was the last thing my dad needed right now so I leaned forward and gave him a hug. He rubbed my back soothingly the way he used to when I was a child and had gotten upset over something stupid. Except I wasn’t a child anymore and this wasn’t something stupid. 

“Like I said, this is going to be difficult but that doesn’t mean we won’t survive, okay?” I nodded against his shoulder. He held me for a moment longer before pulling away, “Right, I’m going to start looking for work now. There’s no time like the present and I’ve got a few old friends I can ask to see if they’ve got any work going. If I have to scrub toilets then I have to scrub toilets to make sure my kids get the best opportunities in life. Why don’t you make dinner tonight so your Ma doesn’t have to stress herself with it?” He stood up, “Oh and don’t be telling the boys anything about this, they’re too young to have that sort of trouble on their shoulders.” So am I I thought desperately but I nodded at my dad and gave him a weak smile.

After he had left I went up to my room and lay down on my bed. I was allowed to have my own room as I was the only girl, my brothers were all crammed into one. This might not be my room for much longer I thought grimly to myself. We could well have to sell this place and move somewhere even smaller if my dad couldn’t get work. And the possibility of him not finding work for a long time was big. Building work had been one of the hardest hit professions in the credit crunch and my dad had no other trade. The guilt I felt kept growing, I should really get a job, even if it means my uni work suffering. Suddenly the image of Lisa popped into my head. I hadn’t thought about her offer much since that day, I hadn’t even told anyone about it, so sure I wasn’t going to take her up on it. But now… with this new turn in events it might not be such a good idea. I grabbed my coat off the floor where I had dropped it and frantically searched through the pockets. Relief flooded through me when I felt the business card she had given me. Only a few days a month and the money will be plentiful were the two standout comments I had taken from our conversations. I could be a model, if it helped my family then I could do it. Reaching for my mobile I dialled the number on the card before I could talk myself out of it. It rang twice before somebody picked up.

“Lisa Partridge of Modest Management, how can I help?”

“Um, hello Lisa, this is Grace McQueen, we met in a café the other day? You asked me about a modelling job.”

“Oh hello Grace! I’m so glad to hear from you, I was beginning to think you weren’t going to get in contact.” I could practically hear her smiling down the phone.

“Well I wasn’t, but I’ve changed my mind, I would be interested in the job. If it’s still available,” I added hurriedly at the end.

“Well you’re in luck, it just so happens that it is, why don’t you come down and have a little chat with us?”


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Harry FINALLY makes an appearance in the next chapter so please hold on and he'll be here! Just have to set the scene first.

The next evening after uni I caught the tube to Fulham. I had agonised over what to wear and how to do my makeup. In the end I had decided to just go natural, a little bit of mascara and blusher along with a plain white top and jeans. I supposed they would want to see what I had naturally before they started to pile the makeup on me. My medium length blond hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail to keep it off my face. The building wasn’t as scary as I’d imagined it to be so I felt a little more at lease as I walked through the front door. When I told the handsome male receptionist my name he told me to go straight upstairs to the meeting room. With every step I took up the stairs I desperately wanted to turn back around again and leave but the image of my dad sitting broken at our kitchen table kept me going. 

As I reached the opaque glass meeting room door I took a big breath to calm my nerves and knocked. Someone called me in and I cautiously pushed the door open. If the rest of the building hadn’t been scary this meeting room more than made up for it. There was a big glass table with four stern looking people sat at it, all facing the door. I almost ran back out again but the sight of Lisa made me stay. She smiled at me, “Grace!” she beamed, “I’m so glad you could make it on such short notice. Come, have a seat.”

I took the only vacant seat in the room, the one directly opposite where everyone else was. While Lisa grinned affectionately at me, the other people in the room, two scary looking men in suits and another lady who was staring at the so intently I thought I might burst into flames, regarded me indifferently. I gripped the edge of the seat and waited to be addressed.

“This is Grace McQueen,” said Lisa, waving a hand a hand at me whilst talking to the others, “She’s the one I saw in the café.” The lady beside Lisa continued to stare at me, while the two men exchanged glances. I wasn’t sure what any of it meant so I continued to grip the edge of the chair until my knuckles went white. After what seemed an eternity one of the men spoke. He was the older looking one of the two, grey hair and a slightly chubby face. “So Grace, thanks for coming here today. How was your journey?” I cleared my throat to answer but he continued without allowing me to reply. “Lisa wasn’t lying, you are a pretty girl aren’t you!” I felt like I was being treated more like a parrot than a human. “How old are you Grace?” “Eighteen,” Lisa answered before I had a chance. “Perfect,” I heard the older man say while the shrew woman finally took her eyes off me to jot something down on the notepad in front of her. “And what sort of personal qualities do you poses that you think will help you in your modelling career?” The way he said ‘modelling career’ made me feel uncomfortable, like it was a secret joke that I wasn’t in on. “Uh, what do you mean?” I said, put out by the way they were looking at me. Only Lisa seemed to be taking a serious interest in what I had to say. “We mean, what are some of your strengths and weaknesses? Are there any things you wouldn’t do?”

“Um, well,” I fiddled with the hem of my shirt, not wanting to look them in the eye, “People say I’m kind, and I care a lot about my family. I can be a little sarcastic at times and…um, I can get quite upset with people but I won’t tell them. I don’t want to…” I could feel my cheeks going bright red as I said the words, “I don’t want to do any nudity,” I mumbled. As I quickly glanced up I could see the lemon-faced woman smirking at me but Lisa only smiled, “We’d never make you do anything you didn’t want to do. Have you ever done any acting Grace?”

“Acting?”

“Yes, often models will try their hand at acting, it gives them more exposure.”

“Well, I did do Theatre Studies A Level, but I’ve never done anything professional.” I had always loved acting, but it had been a hobby of mine, not an ambition.

They continued to bombard me with questions, how did I cope with stress? How often I partied? What were my family like? What I wanted to be doing in five years? It was all very overwhelming, especially when all four of them were taking notes down the whole time, I was very conscious of what I was saying. They then asked me to pose for a few photos against the white wall. At first I had to do them straight faced which I could just about manage but when they asked me to smile my stomach knotted again and I became very aware that my palms and forehead were sweating slightly. I put on what I knew would be a very strained-looking smile and hoped for the best.

It was dark outside by the time they ushered me out the door, telling me they’d be in touch soon. As I hurried towards the tube station, conscious I had that essay still to finish, I tried to assess how today had gone. I felt like I hadn’t done very well, or been the person they wanted me to be. I doubted I’d get the job, and this gave me an unexpected twinge of sadness. Deep down I always wanted people’s approval, even over something that I wasn’t particularly concern about, like this. Letting out a sign I decided to push it to the back of my mind; if I got the job, great. With the extra money I’d be able to help my family out more. If I didn’t get the job, so what? I didn’t even particularly want to be a model.

 

It was three days later when I got the call from Lisa. I’d been in lecture so I hadn’t been able to answer it but I surprised myself with the speed with which I darted out the lecture theatre as soon as it was over to call her back. While the phone rang my stomach did summersaults.

“Grace, thanks for calling me back.”

“No worries,” I said as I waved at Katie, not bothering to say goodbye.

“I’ve got great news for you! Everyone loved you; we all agreed you’re exactly what we’re looking for.”

“So does that mean I’ve got it?” I said with a little too much force.

“Well, we want you on board, that’s for sure. However we weren’t completely honest about the parameters of what your job will entail.”

I felt a knot in my stomach; I knew this had all been too good to be true. “W-what do you mean?”

“Why don’t you come back in for another chat? I can explain everything properly to you then and if you’re still interested, we can get that contract signed.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The events of this chapter are set a year and a half after the previous chapters.

I sat at our table alone flicking through my phone while I waited for Harry to come back from the toilet. I had the brand new iPhone 5 (paid for by Modest, of course) and I hadn’t quite got the hang of using it. I got twitter up and after a few taps managed to see my mentions. Modest had alerted the paparazzi that me and Harry would be at this restaurant before we arrived, so when we got there, there had been a flurry of cameras all trying to snap a photo of us. Harry had taken my hand and led me into the restaurant as usual, looking ever the concerned boyfriend. I had smiled coyly at the cameras and covered my mouth, as is I had a wonderful secret, which in reality, I did. My twitter had blown up in the time we’d been here, obviously the photos had already made their way online as they always inevitably did. ‘OMG @Harry_Styles and @GraceMcQ going out to dinner they’re so cute I wanna die!’ read one of my recent mentions. ‘where did @GraceMcQ get her outfit from she looks amazing I might as well give up’ read another which had a photo of me outside the restaurant attached. I gazed at the photo and smiled gently to myself. Me and Harry really did look like a real couple. If I hadn’t of known myself, I would have guessed me were madly in love. We had got so good at playing our parts by now that we were able to do the subtle things that only obsessed girls on the internet noticed, such as the way Harry’s thumb was gently pressed against my palm, or how I touched his shoulder affectionately as he opened the car door for me. Naturally, there were also some abusive tweets, but they were far outweighed by the positive ones.

“Ready to go?” asked Harry who had arrived back at the table, pulling my attention away from my phone.

“Yeah sure,” I smiled, slipping my phone into my bag and standing up to put my coat on. I groped at the back of my chair for a second before remembering I hadn’t brought a coat with me. I was wearing a new Burberry blouse and had been keen to show it off to the cameras. Now looking at the cold London drizzle maybe this wasn’t the best idea.

“Here,” Harry said coming round to my side of the table, “take mine.” He draped his black trench coat over my shoulders. “Thanks,” I said smiling at him, “they’re really going to love this; Harry the chivalrous gentleman!”

He grinned back at me, “Little do they know!”

Harry had already paid (in full sight of the cameras who were still crowding round the windows) so he put his arm around my waist and guided me towards the exit. I placed my hand on his back for support in preparation of having to walk through the gaggle of paparazzi, who had now been joined by a gang of teenage girls all armed with camera phones. The owner of the restaurant was standing by the door and Harry shook his hand and thanked him for a wonderful meal, before he opened the door and we were bombarded.

Even after all this time I still couldn’t get used to the way in which people thought I was okay to push and shove and thrust cameras into your face. I remember the first time I’d experience it was only 2 weeks after me and Harry started “dating”. We’d gone to see Wicked in theatre in the West End. The whole show I had been sat uncomfortably, fidgeting in my chair and sweating profusely. I had been so aware of being watched that I couldn’t even remember a single thing about the musical taking place on the stage. During the interval Harry had gotten up to buy me a little tub of ice cream. While he was away I saw a girl a few rows in front turned in her seat with her Blackberry propped up. I looked around me to try and see what she was taking a photo of until it dawned on me that I was what she was taking a photo of. Blushing furiously I had pretended to be engrossed with the programme until Harry came back holding two small tubs of ice cream, one strawberry flavoured and the other chocolate. “I got you strawberry, I hope that’s okay.” I thanked him and took the tub. I hated strawberry ice cream, it was my least favourite flavour, but I felt it would be rude not to eat it seeing as he had bought it for me, so I took the lid off and began to scrape off the tiniest morsels and put them into my mouth. Harry seemed to notice I wasn’t enjoying myself in any way and asked if I was okay. “Yeah, um, no. Well the thing is I don’t really like strawberry ice cream, I don’t really like anything strawberry flavoured.”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows together, “Who doesn’t like strawberry ice cream?!” “I-uh,” I spluttered pathetically but Harry broke out into a grin and nudged my arm lightly, “I’m joking, here, we can swap.”

When it was time to leave Harry had taken my hand and leaned in close, “There’s probably going to be a lot of pushing so hold on tight.” It made me laugh to think that One Direction weren’t even at the height of their fame then, yet the pandemonium that had met us outside the theatre had been insane. Huge cameras were shoved in our faces and the screams of teenage girls had been deafening. The minders that had been send to pick us up were trying to guide us to the waiting car but the throng was too strong and we were still being pushed around. Someone bashed into me hard, while someone else stepped on my foot. The whole time Harry never let go of my hand. As soon as we’d made it into the car I had burst into tears, all the overwhelming emotions of that night coming out at once. Harry had put his arm around me and rubbed my back, “I’m so sorry about that Grace, they shouldn’t have made you do that, I’ll talk to them tomorrow, that wasn’t fair.”

“No-it-s-fine,” I had chocked in between sobs.

“No it’s not, I’m so sorry. I’ll take you home now okay you don’t have to worry, the paparazzi don’t know where that is they won’t be able to find us,” he said as he took my hand a gave it a squeeze. He gave me a sweet smile and for the first, but would certainly not be the last time, I wondered what I was doing here. Harry seemed so sweet and genuine I couldn’t imagine him to be the serial womaniser he was made out to be.

Back outside the restaurant a gaggle of girls had broken free from the crowd and pounced on Harry, “OH MY GOD HARRY WE LOVE YOU SO MUCH HARRY CAN WE HAVE A PHOTO PLEASE!?” Never one to refuse a fan Harry detangled his arm from my waist and reached into his pocket. Placing his car keys in my hand he leaned in close to my ear “Wait for me in the car, I’ll be there in a second,” I nodded and leaned in for a quick kiss. I had kissed Harry hundreds of times, always with an audience and this time was no different. Harry was a nice kisser; he was never too dominant, always sweet and light. This was probably because there was no real passion in the kiss; it was just another part of the roles we had to play. However it always made it easier to kiss someone more convincingly if they weren’t trying to shove their tongue down your windpipe. The cameras went crazy as our lips touched and two of the girls next to him squealed.

Squeezing my way through the crowd I hurried towards Harry’s silver Audi to wait for him there. He knew that the big crowds and flashing lights still freaked me out so was always happy to take the attention away from me and onto himself. Thankfully the photographers were far more interested in Harry than me so I was left alone for the 15 minutes that Harry diligently signed autographs and posed for pictures for fans. I felt bad when I remembered I still had his coat and he was out there in a T-shirt only. I thought about getting out again and giving it to him but I couldn’t face that hysteria again. When he finally made it back to the car he smiled at me apologetically. I shrugged “Get given anything good?” He fumbled around with the various gifts he’d been given. “Some posters, some cards, all of which declaring their love for me, a rose,” he said holding up the red rose for inspection, “and…” he placed the rose down in my lap and fumbled with the lid of a small tin he’d been given, “some cakes!”

“Ah give me one,” I said reaching over and shoving my hand in the tin. “You just ate dinner!” Harry exclaimed as I grabbed one of the cupcakes. “’Harry you are my cupcake’” I read the icing on the top. “And you know I hate that fancy restaurant crap, why do they give you such a big plate and such tiny food, then charge you £60 for it I don’t understand.”

Harry rolled his eyes, “I told you, you can get a bowl of chips with your gnocchi, no one’s going to judge you,” he said as he peered into the tin himself.

“Erm, do you remember that time I asked for ketchup on my steak tatare in that French restaurant? The waitress looked at me as if I’d asked her to shit on a plate and spoon feed it to me!”

“Well we can go to McDonalds next time and I’ll buy you a Big Mac to show the world how much I really love you,” he said as he plucked a cupcake from the tin that I believe was meant to have Niall’s face on. He handed me the tin so he could drive without it in the way.

We set off towards Harry’s Notting Hill house which was about a 20 minute drive away from the posh Italian restaurant we’d had dinner at. I knew the paparazzi would already he at Harry’s house before we were so I leant back in the seat and enjoyed the momentary peace and quiet whilst munching in the cupcake.

“You never got to finish what you were saying about your uni exams,” Harry said after a few minutes of quiet with only the radio playing softly in the background.

“Oh yeah,” I sat up properly so I could continue to tell my story with the correct amount of animation it required. I’d started it in the restaurant but we’d been interrupted by the owner coming over to tell us how happy he was we’d chosen to dine there. “Well, our lecturers seemed really helpful with the exam preparation, giving us revision tips and printing off things they thought would be helpful, so I was feeling pretty good about it you know? But then come the exam, nothing they taught us was on there! I had to spend 2 hours writing about something I knew nothing about!” When I had first started “dating” Harry, I had been in my first year of university, which meant that while I was having to get used to my new crazy lifestyle, I only had to pass my first year at uni, as my grades didn’t count towards my agree. However now I was in second year and the grades I got in my exams and essays this year would count towards my final mark which was causing me quite a lot of stress. “I’m just really annoyed you know? Because I worked so hard for that exam and now I feel like it was for nothing!”

Harry took his eyes off the road to glance at me for a second. “I’m sure you’ll be fine, you’re so clever anyway. Plus all that extra reading you do I bet you knew all about what was asked in the exam, even though it hadn’t been part of the syllabus.”

I sighed, “I don’t know man, hopefully I passed. I just want to get a good degree.”

“I know,” Harry smiled, “and you will, I remembered to text you good luck didn’t I?” Only a few months after we had been put together I had had four exams. I had mentioned this briefly in passing to Harry, explaining that I wouldn’t be available much as I had to revise. Even though he had been out of the country doing promo, Harry had sweetly texted me good luck before each of my exams, expect the last one as he had been performing in a concert in Mexico. That last exam had turned out to be the one I failed miserably and since then Harry always text me good luck before I had an exam, and I was yet to fail one.

When we got to Harry’s house as I’d predicted the gaggle of paparazzi were already there waiting for us. Once again we performed our roles dutifully, Harry holding my hand tightly, me gazing at him lovingly. Thankfully this time there were not fans about so Harry didn’t have to stop for autographs. “Hey! Is it true that you guys are engaged!?” shouted one photographer as we made our way up the stairs to Harry’s front door. We both smirked at that notion. Modest would probably do all they could to make sure a video of this moment surfaced on the internet. To the rest of the worlds of smirked indicated that we were being coy as we had something to hide. To us, we were smirking because the idea was so ridiculous; generally you actually dated someone before you got engaged to them, something me and Harry were yet to do. Our silence would speak louder than any words however, and the rumour mill was probably working in overdrive already. We were guaranteed a place in the gossip section of a newspaper tomorrow at least.

Harry let us in the front door and we were able to be ourselves once more. I kicked off my shoes and put my bag down then made my way to the kitchen. “Want a cup of tea?” I called to Harry who was still by the front door, checking his messages on his phone. We weren’t really supposed to use our phones when we were together, lest we look bored in each other’s company. “Please,” he called back. I made Harry’s tea how he liked it, a little milk and one sugar, and my own then carried them to the living room where I could hear he’d turned the TV on.

“Thanks,” he said as he took his tea from my hands and I plonked myself down on the sofa next to him, careful not to spill any of my own drink. “Want to watch The Wire?”

“Okay,” I said giving him a stern look, “but only one, I have uni at 10 tomorrow!”

He grinned back at me, “Yeah just one, I promise.”

“How many times have I heard that one before!” but I let him put the show on knowing full well we were going to watch at least two.

After two episodes I gently pushed Harry’s feet off my lap where they had been resting and got up, “I’m going to bed now, I’ll see you in the morning?”

“Yeah cool, I’ll probably stay up and watch one more episode then go to bed.”

I pouted exaggeratedly, “Without me?”

He nudged my leg with his foot, “I’ll watch it again with you, you know I will. The Wire is our thing!”

“Alright alright you’re forgiven, goodnight.”

“Goodnight Gracie.”

I made my way up the stairs to my room in Harry’s house which was the guestroom. Despite being the smaller room in the house it was twice as big as my room at home. I stayed here often so I already had pyjamas and toiletries, as well as clothes to wear tomorrow as I’d go straight to university in the morning. In the beginning, I’d been extremely uncomfortable with the notion of staying round Harry’s house, even though it was in a different bedroom, as had my extremely Catholic parents. Back then I used to wait an hour or so until the paparazzi outside Harry’s house had dwindled, then I’d sneak out the back door into a waiting taxi which would take me home, then pick me up again in the morning and take me back to Harry’s house so I could exit the front door in front photographers, looking slightly dishevelled. This was so time consuming and tedious, and not to mention I almost got caught sneaking out the back a couple of times that within a few weeks, after getting to know Harry better, I had started staying the whole night, in the guestroom of course. My parents still weren’t happy about this but they now accepted it was just another part of the job.

After quickly getting ready for bed I slipped under the covers of the comfy double bed and fell asleep almost immediately, as I always did here.

I was awoken by a knocking on my door. Groaning, I reached for my phone, it was 03.24 in the morning. “Yeah,” I called, my voice husky from sleep. Harry popped his head round the bedroom door, “Hey Grace sorry to wake you, I was going to invite a friend round, if that was okay with you?” I labouredly lifted myself into a sitting position and rubbed the sleep from my eyes, “Yeah that’s fine, give me a few minutes to get ready.”

As my eyes adjusted to the light I could see Harry’s face more clearly, lit by the light coming from behind him in the hall, he looked terribly guilty, as he always did. “You don’t have to leave you know.” I had asked Harry to wake me each time, I was able to leave before his guest turned up. I had no desire to lie there alone while Harry had sex with his lady friend in the next room. Plus if she were to see me it could lead to a lot of extremely awkward questions.

“Can you call me a cab?” I asked as I flung the blankets back, exposing myself to the cold air. “Yeah sure,” he replied and scurried out the room. I was left to gather my clothes and wonder how on earth I ever got myself into this position.


	5. Chapter Five

That weekend Harry and I took a trip to visit his mum and stepdad in Cheshire. It would have been miles easier to get the train but we couldn’t do things like that as Harry was always mobbed. We agreed to split the journey. I’d drive the first part, with Harry taking over half way through. Harry had offered to pay for me to learn to drive, much to Modest’s frustration, they wanted me to be chauffeured everywhere by Harry so he could seem like the selfless boyfriend. This of course had been impractical, as Harry was very rarely around and public transport was now off limits to me also, lest I wanted to be pestered the whole journey. He had also paid for me to be insured on his Audi, which did not come cheap seeing as I was only 19 myself, yet he never complained and ignored my protests that it was too expensive. When he was away I usually kept the car at my house, one for security, but also for my own personal use.

Harry had been in tour rehearsals last night which had obviously drained him as he slept the whole time I was driving. He had his head back in the seat, arms folded across his chest in a protective position. The furry collar of his coat bunched up around his chin, making him look like an angelic child. I glanced at him and smiled, when he was asleep was one of the only times he didn’t look as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Suddenly a car swerved into my lane and I had to break, not too sharply but enough for Harry to shift position. I glanced over at Harry to see if he’d woken but he was still sound asleep, lips parted, a tiny drop of dribble threatening to fall. The shift had moved his coat though and his neck was now exposed, a huge lovebite at the base of his neck stared back at me. I sighed; it must not have been the tour rehearsals that wore him out last night after all. I made a mental note to make him cover that before we got to his parent’s house. Like my parents, Harry’s mum Anne was aware of our situation, yet she adored me and always treated me as if I were Harry’s real girlfriend, inviting me to family events, even if Harry couldn’t make it, and making me pose in family pictures. She didn’t need a glaring reminder from Harry that I was in fact paid to be here.

Just past Coventry I stopped at a service station. I switched the engine off and checked my phone. We had set off early so it was still only 11 in the morning. The traffic hadn’t been bad once we’d gotten out of London so we’d made good time. I had an email from Lisa telling me that the paparazzi in Manchester would need to be informed of our whereabouts and that we were to be photographed on at least two separate occasions. I also had a text from Katie saying she was stuck on an essay we had to write and could we have a studying session with pizza and ice-cream soon? I ignored the one from Modest, they never expected replies from me, they just knew I would do what was asked of me. I text Katie back saying we’d do it on Wednesday at my house and then slipped my phone back into my pocket. I was going to wake Harry up but he was still sleeping like a log (due to constant touring and photoshoots and interviews he had mastered the art of sleeping anywhere and through anything) and he could get a little spaced out with a lack of sleep so I decided to leave him and drive the rest of the journey myself. I quickly popped into the shop (after locking the car doors behind me before Harry could be kidnapped by some crazed fan) and bought myself a Red Bull, and a pack of Monster Munch for Harry as I knew they were his favourite and he’d be hungry when he woke up.

Somewhere between Birmingham and Stafford Harry roused, yawning and stretching his long legs as much as he could in the cramped car. “Where are we?” he asked, his voice husky from sleep. “Heading towards Stafford I believe, it should only be another 40 minutes or so” I said without taking my eyes off the road, I had been driving for two hours now and couldn’t afford any distractions.

“Why didn’t you wake me so we could swap over?” He pushed himself up in his seat and dug for his phone in his back pocket.

“Well you looked like an angel I didn’t want to wake you, plus from that mark on your neck I’d guess you had a pretty heavy night.”

Harry’s hand flew up to the nape of his neck where the increasingly purple bruise was forming and groaned. Glancing at his phone screen he groaned again, even louder this time. I couldn’t help but let out a laugh, “You seem keen on this one!” He shot me an evil look and returned to his phone. “Nineteen missed calls, thank god I had it on silent!”

“Ah, the perils of being an international player,” I said, unable to hide my grin.

“Shut up,” he mumbled as he tapped away furiously on his mobile. “She seemed cool in the beginning you know? She unbelievably fit too. I had to draw straws with Niall to get her, wish I’d never bothered now, she’s mental! She nearly shredded my neck too!” he said, pulling down the visor to inspect his severely bitten skin in the small mirror.

“Who would have thought it eh? Picking up random girls in clubs is, not always such a good idea! I can’t believe it!” I said in a gloating, singsong voice. Harry fancied himself as such a ladies man it was rare that things went wrong for him, so I had to savour it when they did.

He glared at me through the mirror, “Yeah well at least I can get people to come home with me, you couldn’t score in a brothel!”

I cackled loudly at that, so much so I was worried I’d drive us off the road, “Oooh good one Harry! Who taught you that? Your nine-year-old cousin?!”

He tried to glare at me more through the mirror but his face slowly cracked into a grin. “Whatever” he said, flipping the visor back up and sitting heavily back in his seat.

The rest of the journey passed quickly now Harry was awake to chat to, and the route towards Holmes Chapel had become familiar to me so the drive was easy. As we approached Harry’s house there was already a buzzing crowd of paparazzi and crying teenaged fans alike. I slowed the car down to a crawl as I tried to negotiate the road to Anne’s drive. “Shall I see how many photographers I can hit? It’ll be like bowling.” Harry shot me a stern look but let out a little chuckled when he saw how the men were falling over each other in a bid to get nearer to the car. I laughed with Harry, knowing it would make a good picture. Harry seemed to sense this too as he covered my hand on the gearstick with his own, interlocking our fingers. “I’m not actually going to do it,” I said darkly as Harry’s hand prevented me from changing gear. He laughed again, “I know! I’m just posing for the cameras, that’s all!”

His mum’s house was the one place where Harry refused to pose for pictures with fans. His poor mother had received some nasty abuse on the internet and such, so Harry liked to keep her away from the spotlight, including when he was visiting her. As soon as I parked the car Harry practically leapt out of the car towards the front door, with me following close behind. The ring of paparazzi around us was so tight that none of the screaming teenage girls could break through. I placed my hand on Harry’s back for support as he fumbled around for his key. As soon as he found it he let us in, slamming the door immediately behind us. Anne and Robin, hearing the door, came out to greet us. Harry was Anne’s baby and she instinctively pulled him into a tight embrace. Robin gave me a kiss on the cheek and a hug, followed by Anne when she finally let go of Harry.

“How are you kids?” It always made me smile when Robin called us ‘kids’; I guess we were in his eyes, “How was your journey? You didn’t reverse into anyone’s motorbike did you?” he said winking at me. I rolled my eyes jestingly, “That was one time!” Robin had only found out recently that it had been me that had accidentally reversed Harry’s huge Range Rover into his beloved Harley Davidson. The bike had been fine, just a few small scratches, but I’d been so mortifyingly embarrassed that Harry had taken the blame for me, telling Robin it had been him driving. The truth had only come out at a recent family meal, and only after a few drinks. Robin had informed Harry that after many painstaking sessions the bike’s paintwork had finally been delicately restored to its original glory. Harry had nodded sincerely, but one glance in my direction and we’d both burst into uncontrollable fits of laughter.

We went into the kitchen and Robin set about making tea for everyone while Anne sat down with us at the big mahogany kitchen table. “How’s uni going Grace? Well done on your essay by the way, 96%, that’s incredible!” I blushed slightly, as I always did when someone congratulated me on academic achievements. “Thanks Anne.”

“Wait you got 96%?” Harry said looking at me in surprise, “You never told me that!” I blushed even more. I had told Harry I’d gotten a first when he’s asked, which could be anything over 70% but I hadn’t told him the actual percentage. I shrugged and pursed my lips. “You should have said, I would have taken you out to celebrate!”

I waved the suggestion away, “It wasn’t important.” For some reason how I was doing academically was one of the very few things I didn’t like talking to Harry about. He lived such an incredible life, performing all over the world, on some of the greatest stages of the world, that everything I did seemed boring and insignificant in comparison. I took private pride in my work, but did not like to share it, I had told Anne only because she insisted on knowing.

Harry frowned, “You’re too hard on yourself,” he said but thankfully he could tell when I wasn’t comfortable and moved the conversation on. We chatted over tea for a while about what everyone had been up to (Harry, as always had the most to tell) before Anne ushered us upstairs to unpack and get ready for dinner. Harry had bought this old converted mill for his mother about six months ago and it was huge. All the rooms were spacious and high-ceilinged, with beautiful brickwork and wooden floorboards. My room was opposite Harry’s and looked out onto the old stables, now used to house Robin’s vast collection of motorbikes. It was painted simple white, with framed photos dotted around the walls. One of them was of me and Harry, about six months after we’d been put together. I remembered the day distinctly because it was the first time I had started to feel truly comfortable in Harry’s company. We had been visiting Holmes Chapel, not for the first time, except this time, Harry had decided to take me to meet his old school friends. I’d been terribly nervous of what they would think of me, as they were all under the impression I was Harry’s real girlfriend. We’d gone to his friend Rob’s house, where a small group of his friends were already. Harry had introduced me individually to everyone, his arm around my shoulder protectively. We had hung out in Rob’s lounge, laughing and talking while a film played quietly in the background. Harry had brought beer enough for everyone and we’d all sipped away merrily, getting progressively tipsy. Harry’s friends roared with laughter as they recounted funny and embarrassing stories of him, calling the teacher ‘mum’, falling flat on his face during an overambitious tackle at football. Harry had taken it all in good humour and retorted with even worse stories of them. There hadn’t been a moment not filled with raucous laughter. I remember looking at Harry and beaming, it was the first time I had seen him as a normal teenage boy, goofy and embarrassing but unashamedly so. He wasn’t posing or saying something mundane that he’s been taught to say a million times, he was just being himself. In the photo we’re both squashed into a one-person armchair, Harry’s arm loosely around my shoulder. We’re laughing at something, I can’t remember what, Harry’s eyes are scrunched up and his mouth open, unable to hold back his laughter. My head in thrown back on his shoulder and I’m biting my lip trying to keep my own laughter in. it is so natural, which is why I love it so much, we don’t look like a couple, we look like best friends, which is the real truth. 

Anne had washed all the sheets since my last stay and had placed a pile of fresh towels on the end of the bed. Grabbing them I headed over to the small en suit to have a quick shower before dinner.

When I got out I quickly put on my bra, knickers and socks, before rummaging around my travel bag for some new clothes to wear. There was a knock on the door and I could tell it was Harry; he always did two quick ones then a slightly slower one. “Yeah!” I called as I upturned the bag onto the bed in search for a particular H&M top I was sure I’d brought.

Sure enough Harry entered, “Hey.” He must have showered too as his hair was wet, one solitary curl sticking to his forehead, and he smelt like mango. “Harry did you see me pack that black H&M top? The one with the silk lining, I’m sure I brought it!”

“Yeah it’s here,” he said, picking it up off the bed where it had been hidden under a blazer. I slipped it over my head and began looking for the pair of jeans I wanted. I wasn’t embarrassed being half naked in front of Harry, there was no sexual attraction between us, there never had been either. We’d been on holiday together anyway, he’d seen me loads of times in a bikini, plus he often forgot I was at his house and would walk into the kitchen in the morning completely naked.

“Are you okay?” I asked him, as I tried to fit one of my calves into the impossibly tight jean legs. Harry was very good at hiding his emotions, he had to be, yet I had learned to read the subtle signs, the slight furrow of his eyebrows, the chewing of his lower lip when he thought no one was looking, the constant fiddling. Right now he had a tube of mascara he had picked up from the bed and was throwing it from hand to hand furiously, whilst staring fixatedly at the small lamp on the bedside table.

“Hm, what?” he said, looking up at me as if he’d only just noticed I was there.

I nodded towards the tube in his hands, “Unless you’re going to ask me if you can borrow that I’d say you’re worried about something.”

“Oh,” I glanced down at the mascara, almost unconscious that he’d even been holding it before throwing it back down on the bed. “No it’s nothing.”

“Harry come on man, what’s up?” I said as I finally managed to fit the first thigh in the jeans.

Knowing I wasn’t going to give up he plonked himself down on my bed, “I was meant to be meeting Sam and Craig after dinner tonight for some drinks, but I just got a text off Sam, which I think was meant for Craig, saying that I probably won’t turn up cause I think I’m too important for them now, and if I do, I’ll just boast about how rich I am and how my life is so much better than theirs.” The hurt on Harry’s face was unbearable. He didn’t care much about what people thought of him, but when it came to his friends he treasured their opinions and took everything they said to heart. Sam and Craig were two of Harry’s oldest friends and I knew something like this would cut him deep. I stopped what I was doing, still only one leg into my trousers and sat down next to him on the bed. I took his hands in mine to stop him fidgeting. “That sucks Harry and what they said was below the belt, but they’re two of your best friends and that’s something you’re never going to be able to forge with anyone else, not even me. They knew you before you were in the band, so you just have to show them you’re still that same guy. It must be hard to see someone who you used to pull your money together with so you could buy £1 comics pull up in an Audi while they’re still working minimum wage in a supermarket. You’re a good guy Harry, and they know that it’s just jealousy gets the best of us sometimes.”

Harry was silent for a moment as he stared down at our interlocked hands. I didn’t speak either, giving him time to think about what I had said. “Will you come with me?” he asked eventually. I could tell he still wasn’t sure about what I had said and was doubting himself. “Of course I will,” if Harry needed moral support then I was more than happy to be there, even if I did think he was being too critical of himself.

He turned and smiled at me, “You always know the right bullshit line to spin don’t you?” I rolled my eyes and tried to playfully push him away but he grabbed my wrists and pulled me into an embrace, “But you’re wrong about one thing; you’re my best friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know how you're enjoying the story guys (assuming you are haha)!


	6. Chapter Six

Harry and I returned to London late on Sunday night. I didn’t have lectures on Monday as it was a bank holiday but Harry had band commitments so we had to come back. I would have stayed an extra night with Anne and Robin but Harry was driving so I’d had no choice.

I decided to treat my younger brothers by taking them bowling. I always felt so guilty spending time away from them, they were all growing up so fast and I felt like I was missing it. Tom, the eldest had just turned fourteen and thought he was too cool to like Harry, but always slyly gravitated towards him whenever he was at our house, asking to play on his iPhone or to go for a drive in his Audi. Harry always graciously obliged, even though after he was gone Tom would profess how much he hated One Direction and that only little girls listened to them. Rory was seven and the splitting image of me, blond hair, blue eyes and a dimple in his right cheek. He made no secret of the fact that he adored Harry and followed him round like a lost puppy, never more than three feet away, constantly asking him what he was doing. Sean was five and had no particularly strong feelings towards Harry, he much preferred his Hot Wheels.

My parents both still had to work so they were glad for me offering to take the boys for the day. It was a struggle to get everyone up and organised and not for the first time I wondered how my mum does it, as even I had been known to be a little grouchy in the morning. Sean was ecstatic about going bowling with his big sister and had thus been awake since six in the morning. “Can we go yet Gracie? Can we please go now!?” He had exclaimed when he’s bounced into my room. “Not now but soon,” I had said, pulling him under the duvet with me into a cuddle but after a few minutes he’d began to fidget so I’d let him go downstairs to watch TV just so I could have a few more hours sleep. Rory had come into my room at eight claiming he was hungry and would I make him something. Realising a lie-in was going to be impossible I got up and plodded downstairs in my slippers. By half nine both Sean and Rory were washed, dressed and fed, whereas Tom was nowhere to be seen. I enlisted the help of my youngest brothers to go and call on him every ten minutes until he got up. It only took half an hour of Sean and Rory clamouring into his room before he emerged down the stairs, his jet black hair sticking in all directions and his dark blue eyes blurry with sleep. He was almost as tall as me now which scared me a little, as I always thought of him fondly as my baby brother.

Eventually at eleven, after a lot of shouting and running around and searching for shoes we were ready to leave. I had decided to forego makeup as my brothers had needed my attention, plus as I was not on “girlfriend duty” I was unlikely to be photographed, and if I was it would probably be by a low-quality phone camera of a fan. Pulling my hair into a messy bun and grabbing my keys I was just about to leave when my mobile rang. Looking at the screen I saw it was Lisa. Knowing better than to ignore it I answered, “Hello?”

“Hi Grace! How are you?” I had come to despise Lisa’s fake bubbly personality and the way she always acted like talking to you was the fucking greatest thing she’d ever done. However she was paying my bills so I tolerated her. Only Harry knew of my hatred and would always do scarily accurate impressions of her which made me laugh my head off.

“I’m good.”

“That’s fantastic! What are you doing today?”

“Just going bowling with my brothers, nothing exciting,” I replied, wanting her to get to the point so I could get off the phone. Rory was getting impatient with the wait and was taking it out on Sean by twisting one of his ears.

“That’s great, I hope you guys have an amazing time!” she said merrily as I indicated for Tom to intervene which he did so by twisting Rory’s ear in turn. “Look, if you’re not too busy later then maybe you could come by the office for a chat.”

I had been waiting for this phone call, me and Harry had not fulfilled our quota of getting photographed in Manchester and I had known they were going to be pissed. We had planned on going out for dinner in town but I had had a headache so instead Harry had ran to the shop and bought Ben and Jerry’s and we’d watched films until we fell asleep on the sofa. I’d only woken up and gone to bed when Harry had shook me at four in the morning telling me he was going to visit an old girlfriend.

“Uh, I’m pretty busy today but I’ll see if I can swing by.”

“That’s great Grace, I really hope you can make it,” she said in a tone that implied it was not a request.

Hanging up the phone I separated my brothers and we were finally on our way. It was a ten minute walk to the local bowling alley but with three boys everything seemed to take twice as long. Rory had to stop to tie his shoelace on four separate occasions, refusing any assistance from me even though his knots kept coming undone. Sean wanted to look in every shop window while Tom dragged his heels so much we had to keep stopping for him to catch up. I also let them take a diversion to the local toy shop to browse, but made a mental note of the toys they seemed most interested in. Spoiling my brothers was the one thing I couldn’t resist doing.

When we eventually neared the bowling alley I could see there was a small crowd of about six or seven people standing near the entrance. I didn’t think anything of it, they were probably just parents waiting to pick their kids up from a bowling party or something. It wasn’t until we got closer that I saw they were all holding cameras. The familiar feeling of dread dropped in my stomach like a lead balloon. I hastily grabbed Rory and Sean’s hands, “Hey guys, how about we get McDonald’s before bowling huh?” Tom was old enough to realise my voice was strained and looked over to where I was glancing affrightedly.

“No!” cried Sean, “I want to go bowling now you said we could Grace!”

I hurriedly tried to shush him but it was too late, his shouting had alerted the paparazzi to our presence and they were moving in. “Hey there she is!” I heard one of them shout and I turned and practically dragged my brothers in the opposite direction. By the time we made it to the main road the photographers were only metres away and were already snapping away. Between all of the confusion and the flashing lights Sean began to cry. I picked him up as I looked up and down the road desperately in search of a black cab. “Who are these boys Grace?” “Are they your brothers?” “What are their names?” They all seemed to be talking at once. I protectively put my free arm around Tom who was holding tight onto Rory. Although there weren’t that many of them they seemed to be surrounding us and all the commotion was attracting passers-by, some of whom were now taking pictures on their phones.

Mercifully a cab turned the corner and I threw my arm out to hail it. “Why don’t you turn around so we can get a photo of you all together?” Suggested a voice from behind one of the flashing cameras.

“Why don’t you just fuck off?” I snapped, looking directly at where the voice had come from. Turning around I bundled my brothers into the cab and gave our address. As we pulled away I could have screamed from anger but instead I concentrated on comforting the crying Sean. None of the boys said anything, they were probably in shock. They knew Harry was in a famous band (only Tom knew the truth about us not really being together) and that sometimes people took our photos but they had never witnessed it for themselves. One of the conditions of my contract with Modest! Management was that my family were to be kept out of the limelight.

Once home I managed to calm the boys down by letting them watch TV whilst they ate their lunch of crisp sandwiches. Sean seemed to have forgotten all about it but Rory still looked a little shaken, so I let him sit on my lap while we watched TV, even though he had gotten so heavy that he hurt my legs now. While I was in the kitchen clearing up Tom entered, looking wide-eyed. “Is that what it’s like all the time?” he asked quietly.

I shrugged, not wanting to worry him, “No it’s normally okay, I’ve gotten used to it now anyway.” I tried to smile convincingly but he still looked apprehensive.

“You could have been hurt,” he barely whispered.

I could feel tears pricking my eyes but I turned away and busied myself with the dishes so he wouldn’t see. To think that I had put my brothers in danger broke my heart, but it also made me furious. It was clear that Lisa had called the paparazzi, as no one else had known where I was going and I certainly hadn’t called them myself. She was punishing me for not up keeping my side of the deal, but she had hit me in the worst possible way.

By the afternoon the pictures and video of me telling the photographer to fuck off were all over the internet and one quick check of my mentions on twitter told me people weren’t taking it lightly. Few were complimentary, most were outraged. ‘You go girl @GraceMcQ! Tell those creeps where to stick it!’ ‘who does @GraceMcQ think she is being so rude like that she’s meant to be a role model!!!’ ‘lost all respect for @GraceMcQ after that. a real lady never would have done that’. I quickly quit the app and shoved my phone in my pocket, waiting for the inevitable call. I was terrified of what Modest would make of this, I was already in their bad books, plus their pay checks were what helped keep this family afloat and I couldn’t afford to lose them, they had threatened to dock my wages before. I was even more worried about what my mum was going to say, she was fiercely protective of her family and already hated the idea of me being photographed by strangers, she would hit the roof when she found out my brothers had been too.

Just as soon as I had put it away my phone began to ring. Bracing myself for the impending tirade I was surprised to see Harry on the caller ID. I had forgotten all about him in the storm. I was tempted to ignore it; I didn’t want to speak to Harry right now, but he was the sort of person that would call twenty times if you didn’t pick up.

“Hi Harry.” I closed the kitchen door so my brothers wouldn’t hear the conversation.

“Grace, how are you? Are you okay? I literally just saw what happened.” He sounded anxious and was speaking fast, especially for him.

I sighed heavily; there was no point in lying to Harry. He always knew when I was lying, plus he was probably the only other person who understood what it felt like. “This is shit Harry.” My voice cracked as I began to cry, unable to hold it in any longer. “It was Lisa, she told the photographers where we were going to be. But she knew I had my brothers with me Harry! I think it’s because of Manchester. I’m sorry Harry, I really am.”

“Grace, Grace listen to me okay?” he replied softly, trying to get a word in between my gentle sobs, “You have nothing to apologise for okay? It’s me that should be apologising. I’m the whole reason you’re in this mess. I’m sorry this is something I’ve had to put you through.”

“No Harry you’re a good person-” I began but he cut me off.

“Grace this isn’t fair to you or your family, I mean I’ve seen the video, the boys look terrified. Modest have broken their side of the agreement.”

“But so did we! We weren’t photographed enough and-”

“I don’t give a shit about that!” exclaimed Harry. I was so shocked I fell silent immediately. Harry very rarely swore, and I’d never heard him raise his voice like that before. “I’m sick of them treating you like shit Grace, you’re a human being, not some dog they can pay to perform tricks.” He had lowered his tone but I remained quiet. “Look, I’m going to speak to them okay? I’m going to tell them that if they pull any more shit like that then I’m out, and so are you.”

“Harry I don’t think it’s a good idea to threaten them-”

“I’m sick of it though, who are they to tell you where to go and how to act and what to say?”

“But it’s my job Harry, it’s what keeps my family going.”

It was Harry’s turn to fall silent. He was so absorbed in the lifestyle he was leading, including our relationship, that I think he sometimes forgot that it wasn’t my lifestyle. I had always been very honest with him about why I took the job, but money worries weren’t something that Harry had to think about.

“You know I’d never let anything happen to you,” he said eventually, so quietly I barely caught it.

I was touched, “I know.”

Sometimes I wondered if there were two Harry’s. The one I got to see, the sweet, caring and thoughtful one, who dribbled in his sleep and brought me a fridge magnet in every place he went to because he knows I collect them and the other Harry. The one who was an international superstar, who had slept with countless women, would spy a girl and pursue her until he got his way and had a separate phone, just for his conquests.

“It’s fine Harry, I’ll take care of this. They’re going to want to do major damage control, lets just go along with it for now? Just until this all blows over.”

“You don’t have to do it by yourself Grace you know, I’m here for you.”

“I know,” I said as I wiped a tear from my cheek. “I love you Harry, I really do.”

“I love you too.”


	7. Chapter Seven

I tried to ignore the flashing lights coming through the car windows but they we hard to ignore. One guy even had his heavy camera held up over the windscreen as to get a better photo. It was six in the morning and way too early for this shit. Harry and I had gone to the cinema last night to see a scary film of which I couldn’t recall the name. I hated horror films and had spent most of the duration with my face hidden behind my eyes, refusing to watch. Harry had laughed at me, calling me a wimp and putting his arm around me for “protection”, only to grab my shoulder suddenly, making me scream. I allowed him to have his fun, but I had felt him jump slightly against me at scary moments. “Are you bringing anyone back here tonight?” I had asked as soon as we’d gotten back to his. He shook his head, “I have to be up at five for a TV appearance, I can’t be bothered. Why? Are you scared?”

“No,” I’d pouted, but Harry had grinned at me and I’d cracked, “Okay maybe a little. I just don’t want to go home alone okay!”

He’d thrown his head back and laughed. I loved the way Harry laughed, the way he scrunched up his eyes as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The sound was so loud and uncharacteristic of Harry it still took me by surprise. The veins in his neck protruded and his Adams apple bobbed. “You barely even watched the film! What do you have to be afraid of!?” I sulked and said nothing. “Sure,” he said eventually after he had come down from his high, “Of course you can stay here, I’ll drop you home on my way to the studio tomorrow. Just be careful for murderers in the wardrobe.”

“Harry!” I had protested, throwing the core of the apple I had been eating at his head, which missed by a long way, sending him into fits of laughter again.

Harry eventually managed to manoeuvre through the throng of photographers and onto the main road. It was so cold this morning I could see my breath inside the care. I almost felt sorry for the men who had probably been stood outside the house since last night but then I thought of the look on Sean’s face when they’d bombarded us and the feeling faded into resentment. Harry was rambling slowly on about his agenda for the day. I was half listening, a talent I had perfected during our 18 months together. Sometimes Harry blathered on so endearingly I just zoned out anyway. It wasn’t that I wasn’t interested, on the contrary, Harry was an incredibly intelligent and thoughtful person. It was just he put so much thought into what he wanted to say it usually took a lifetime to come out, by which time I had forgotten the original point.

“So what are you up to today?” he asked, suddenly pulling me back into the conversation.

“Oh,” I said clearing my throat which was still husky from sleep. “I’ve got lectures from two until four, then I might go to the gym. Oh and tonight me and Katie are going out with some uni friends.”

“Oh really? Where are you going to go?”

“Some new club in Mayfair, called Sunset or Sunrise or something like that.”

Harry clicked his fingers, “I’ve heard about that place, it’s meant to be really good! Although a little expensive for university students” he said through the corner of his mouth, jokingly mocking me.

I nudged him, “Well good thing I have a rich boyfriend then! It’s a student night anyway.”

“That explains it then, 20p for a shot yeah? It’s probably watered down paint stripper.”

I rolled my eyes at him, “Well what are you doing that’s so fun then? Having an orgy at Kate Moss’ mansion? Catching a jet for a quick performance for the president of Brazil?”

“No, they’re next week,” he said, taking his eyes off the road temporarily to wink at me. While that wink would have make thousands of girls swoon, it just made me laugh. “Tonight I’m not doing much, just probably go and chill at Niall’s house.”

“Why don’t you come out with us then? It’ll be a laugh, plus it will please management.” As I had rightly suspected I had been called into headquarters for a severe dressing down, plus I’d had two months wages docked. Harry insisted on picking up my wages for those two months, despite my protests. Management didn’t know about this of course. We had been on our best behaviour these past couple of days, hence the romantic cinema trip last night, plus the sickly tweets to each other; ‘@HarryStyles you look to sweet when you sleep, I could watch you forever’ ‘@GracieMcQ you look so beautiful I’m gonna come right over there and kiss you’ and so on. The former one had made me hoot as I had been in my tracksuit bottoms at the time and my hair a birds nest, eating my fourth pack of crisps.

Harry considered my offer for a second before nodding, “Okay, what’s the worst that could happen? I get stuck with you all night? Plus anything is better than Niall talking me through his football sticker collection again. He’s not even from Derby!”

After my lectures I headed to the gym on campus as I intermittently did, then arrived home for about sixish. I had managed to get a few more hours sleep after Harry had dropped me home that morning so I was feeling fresh and excited for tonight. By the time I had gotten out the shower in just a towel with my hair washed and my legs as smooth as a baby’s bum Harry had arrived. He was looking dapper as ever in a pair of black skinny jeans and a white shirt which was, as always, buttoned up to the top. He had left his shoes downstairs as he was always cautious of my mum’s cream carpet in the landing, even though my brothers dragged god-knows-what up there every day on the bottoms of their shoes.

“You look nice,” I said as I roughly towel dried my hair.

He shrugged shyly and scuffed the carpet with a socked foot. I always found it strange how Harry veered from shy bashfulness to cocky vainness depending on the company he was in. If he saw a girl he liked the look of, he would saunter over as if he was the best looking guy in the room, which he usually was. Yet the other day he had blushed crimson when my mum had complimented his new haircut.

“What are you going to wear?” he asked, changing the subject. “I forgot to ask earlier so I just dressed in black and white, I figured that’d go with anything.”

I smiled at his thoughtfulness and went over to my wardrobe to take out the dress I was planning to wear. It was a dark green velvet mini-dress, with long sleeves. It was unlike anything I usually wore but I’d seen it in River Island on a recent shopping trip and decided to try something new.

“Wow, that’s… unlike you,” Harry said as he admired the dress.

“I know but now you’ve got all your edgy tattoos you need an edgy girlfriend to match.” Harry grinned despite himself. He knew I disapproved of the majority of his tattoos, yet as I was not his real girlfriend I had no real say in what he decided to put on his body.

“You’ll be the one getting tattoos next!”

“I think not!” I protested as I laid the dress out carefully on the bed.

“What about right here.” I felt Harry trace a finger over my bare shoulders as I leant over the bed. The sudden unexpected combination of his light touch with his slight breath on my still-damp skin caused a shiver to go up my spine.

“Get off,” I said as I quickly turned around and swatted his hand away.

He gave me a boyish grin as he stepped back, “It could say ‘I love Modest! Management.”

I rolled my eyes at him and went to the bathroom to get ready.

By the time I was ready Harry had already fetched two glasses from downstairs and poured us some drinks.

“Grey Goose Harry? It’s supposed to be a student night!” However my protests did not stop me picking up my glass and taking a long drink. Thankfully we were getting taxis to the club and meeting everyone there so neither of us had to drive.

He shrugged aloofly, “I didn’t have anything else to bring.” He eyed me up and down, “You look really nice. For once,” he couldn’t resist adding quickly on the end.

“Well have you seen the pictures from this morning? I didn’t have any makeup on and I looked like death warmed up! I need to remind people I can actually look nice sometimes.”

“You look like a goth. It’s cool though, I like it.”

“Thank god my boyfriend approves, you know I live to please you!” It was true I had gone a little heavier on the eye makeup than usual, and I’d left my shoulder-length blonde hair to dry naturally into soft waves. On my feet I was wearing sky-high heeled boots, which still only just got me eye-level with Harry.

About half an hour later the cabs arrived. As we came down the stairs my mum came out of the living-room to wave us off. Although my mum disapproved of mine and Harry’s situation she had grown to like Harry. “Don’t you two look lovely?” she cooed in her soft Irish tones. Harry smiled at her sweetly, “Thanks Bernadette.”

“You’re wearing quite a lot of makeup Grace,” she spied as I came closer. “You be careful now, you never know who’s out there late at night.”

I rolled my eyes good naturedly at my mother, who was always worried about something. “I know mum, but don’t worry, I’ve got Harry here to protect me!”

She smiled and placed a hand on Harry’s arm, “I know Harry’s always there for you. You’re a good lad Harry,” she said directly at Harry, causing a blush to creep up his neck.

“Here, let me take a picture of the two of yous while you’re looking so nice.” Harry obliged and handed my mum his iPhone for her to take the picture.

“Oh Harry, it’s taking a picture of me! Oh look at the size of me double chin!”

Harry patiently helped my mum turn the camera around so the picture was of us. He came over to me and put his arm around my waist, leaning in towards me. I placed my hand on his back as my mum took the photo. He showed it to me afterwards, “Send it to me Harry, I like that one.” Although there were hundreds of photos of me and Harry floating around the internet I always treasured the ones like these. The ones where we weren’t wearing our masks or playing a role, we were just being ourselves. I glanced at the picture again, scrutinising it. When Lisa had first told me I was to pose as the girlfriend of one of the biggest popstars in the world I just hadn’t been able to understand why they’d picked me. I wasn’t stunningly beautiful, I could do with being a few inches taller and a few pounds lighter. However over the years I had come to realise those imperfections were why they had picked me. Me and Harry looked like a genuine couple. The fact that I wasn’t a stick-think supermodel with the legs of a racehorse is what made the fans love me. I was normal. This in turn made them more accessible to Harry. They could fantasise that maybe one day they could be Harry’s girlfriend. I might hate Modest, but I couldn’t deny that they were clever. 

We hadn’t told management we were going out tonight so there was no gaggle of photographers when we arrived at the club. We waited patiently in the queue like everyone else, not wanting to cause a fuss. However it was probably below freezing and I had forgotten to bring a jacket. For once I wished Harry would get a little flashy and get us to the front of the queue. He saw me shivering and enveloped me in his arms. With my head against his chest I could hear his heartbeat. He smelled nice too, as always.

The bouncer at the door studied Harry’s drivers licence for a few seconds longer than was necessary, glancing at him a few times but let him in silently. I was glad he didn’t look at mine for too long, it was awful. I had had a terrible cold the day it had been taken so I looked about forty, with dishevelled hair and bags under my eyes. Harry had a picture of it on his phone and liked to threaten me with it from time to time. Once in the club we headed over to the back, where Katie had text me to tell me they were waiting. I soon as I saw here I weaved my way over excitedly. I had had a little bit to drink so was slightly giddy. “Katie!” I cried as I hugged her. She squeezed me tightly before giving Harry a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. During my time at university I had become close with Katie. She was very sweet and genuine, and always up for a good time. Also at the table were a few of our uni friends; Leila, a quiet but stunningly beautiful girl who was probably the most graceful person I knew. Alex, a handsome guy who lived with Katie in their student house, he was charming and opinionated, but I got on with him well. Plus Duncan, the biggest pothead I had ever met yet absolutely hilarious. Katie had met Harry before but none of the others had, even though they teased me gently about him. I put my arm around his waist, “Guys this is my boyfriend Harry, Harry this is Leila, Duncan and Alex,” as I pointed them each out in turn. Leila waved shyly, Alex nodded in his direction and Duncan gave him a space-out smile.

“I love this song!” Katie exclaimed as Tinie Tempah’s ‘Drinking From the Bottle’ came on. She beckoned for us all to get up. “I’ll stay here with the bags,” said Alex as he cradled his beer. The rest of us moved out onto the dance floor. I grabbed Harry’s hand and we started to dance. I loved dancing with his simply because he was so terrible at it. Although his sense of rhythm was good his arms and legs were so long and gangly he just didn’t know what to do with them. Usually he exaggerated his bad moves, much to my amusement. Tonight was no exception and he was soon spinning me and Katie around, he even got shy Leila to bust a few moves. After about 45 minutes of this exertion I needed a break. “I’ve got to sit down,” I said as I leaned into his ear, struggling to be heard over the thumping music.

“Okay I’ll go and grab us some drinks.”

Leila and Katie were happy to carry on and Duncan seemed to have wandered off somewhere so I went to join Alex at the table. I liked Alex well enough, but there was something about him that meant I could never be fully comfortable in his presence, I just wasn’t sure what it was.

“Looked like you were having a good time out there,” he commented as I sat down.

“Yeah, Harry’s a pretty crazy dancer, it gets quite tiring!”

“How long have you guys been together again?” he asked, swirling the last bit of beer around the bottom of the bottle. From the looks of the abandoned bottles on the table it wasn’t his first.

“A year and a half,” I said automatically. It was a question I got asked a lot.

“Wow, you must really love each other.”

“Well…yeah, of course,” I was beginning to get that uncomfortable feeling I always got when I was with Alex.

He shrugged and emptied his beer. I gazed out over the sea of heads to where Harry was at the bar. He was chatting to the girl next to him. From what I could see he had turned on his charm mode. She was laughing at what he was saying, leaning in close then pushing him away in exaggerated outrage. I could only see the back of her but she had long brown hair and an extremely short black dress on. Just Harry’s type, he loved brunettes. The barman came to take his over and Harry ordered his drinks. I knew what he would do next, as he paid for them he would also give the barman a slip of paper with his number on and tell him to give it to the girl when he served her. She would text right away (they always did, what happened to playing it cool?) and he’d tell her his address and what time to get there. Just as I’d predicted Harry scribbled down something onto a spare napkin as the barman was making his order. This meant I’d be going to my own home tonight, via Harry’s backdoor.

I turned away uninterestedly, I’d seen him do it hundreds of times before. Alex had obviously been watching this all play out as well, as his stare was fixated across the room at Harry.

“Doesn’t that bother you?” he said suddenly, turning his gaze on me.

“Doesn’t what bother me?” I asked, feigning ignorance.

“The way he chats up other girls like that?” His stare was so intense I couldn’t look him in the eye.

“He wasn’t chatting her up, they were just talking. She’s probably just a fan.” I was getting defensive and he could tell.

“They certainly looked very friendly.”

“That’s normal; girls throw themselves at him all the time.” This part was true.

“He seemed in no hurry to push her away. He even wrote down his number for her. Does he do that for every fan?”

“It was probably just an autograph,” I snapped. I didn’t know why I was defending Harry so much, everything Alex was saying was true, yet I couldn’t let it go. “You don’t know anything about our relationship Alex.”

“I can see he treats you like shit.” I turned away from him, not wanting to hear anymore. “Why are you even with that arsehole? I know it’s not for money so what is it?” I almost laughed at how wrong he was but I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. I could see Harry making his way over with a drink in each hand. I got up and met him on the dance floor. Alex had soured my mood and it must have shown on my face.

“What’s up?” he asked with genuine concern.

“Oh it’s nothing,” I lied, taking one of the drinks out of his hand and taking a large gulp.

Harry could tell I was lying and frowned. “Did someone say something to you?” He glanced over my shoulder to where Alex was still sitting.

“No it’s fine Harry, can we just leave it? I just want to have a good night.” It was obviously still troubling him but he decided to let it drop.

We rejoined Katie and Leila for a while but I just wasn’t in the mood anymore. Alex’s comments had upset me, mainly because they were true. Harry always treated me with the upmost respect, but those women he slept with were another story. I knew for a fact he strung them along with stories of how he was going to call them and take them out to dinner, or how they were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen and he was going to write a song about them. It was just lies to get them into bed. I never really had much respect for the girls he slept with, they were willing to sleep with another girl’s boyfriend, but I did feel sorry for them. I suppose they really did believe him, while to Harry, those words were nothing but another mechanism to get him a shag.

“I think I’m going to head home,” I shouted into Harry’s ear. He nodded, “I’ll come with you.” He must have known I was in a bad mood about something.

We said our goodbyes to the rest of the group (Alex only stared frostily) and headed outside to get a taxi. I hailed a cab as Harry posed patiently for a few pictures with fans. I was extremely thankful there was no paparazzi, I was in no mood to deal with them.

When Harry eventually climbed in he sat next to me and put his arm around me, “So are you going to tell me what’s given you a face like a slapped arse all evening?”

“Are you going to meet that girl tonight?” I asked, ignoring his question completely.

He grinned, “Yeah! She was so fit!”

“You know, I might just go straight home tonight,” I said shrugging his arm off my shoulder and leaning forward so I could tell the cabbie my address.


	8. Chapter Eight

I didn’t see Harry for another 3 weeks after the incident at the club. This wasn’t unusual for us however and management ensured me tweeted each other enough to remind people we were still a couple madly in love. It also gave me some time to calm down over the things Alex had said about Harry. From the outside I could see how it looked, Harry playing the doting boyfriend while he’s seeing other girls behind my back, or like the other night, in front of my face, and me being none the wiser. But Alex didn’t understand, he didn’t understand the relationship between me and Harry. Harry didn’t want to be in this situation any more than I did. It wasn’t his fault that his management wouldn’t let him do or say what he wanted. He is a nineteen year old boy who just wants to do what nineteen year old boys want to do, yet he couldn’t even have the luxury of chatting up a girl in a bar, he had to be attached to my side, ball and chain. Harry wasn’t perfect but he’d always treated me with the utmost respect and I’d take on anyone who would contest it. If nothing else me and Harry were a team.

However I felt pretty much abandoned as I sat in between Danielle and Perrie in this sparse dressing room in New York. The boys were doing a special performance for American TV, and once Modest had caught wind that the other girls would be flying out in support they had insisted I go, not wanting to be outdone by the real couples. There had been a problem with the boys’ original dressing room, some electrical fault, meaning we’d all been carted off into this cramped room with only one sofa and a small fold out table while they fixed it. The band was doing dress rehearsals meaning we’d been left to wait for their arrival. I hadn’t seen Harry yet, unlike the other girls I’d not flown over with the band as my late addition to the party meant I had to catch a later flight. I was tired and annoyed at Modest for making me come. Not that I was ungrateful for being flown free of charge to New York, it was just I had an important essay due in and I’d wanted to use the Easter holidays doing it. Now I was going to have to parade around Manhattan hand-in-hand with Harry.

Eleanor had found a foldout chair somewhere and was sitting facing us on the sofa, a stretched silence fell between us.

“So…” she said, fiddling with the hem of her pretty top, “how is uni going?”

“Okay,” I nodded a little too overenthusiastically, mentally kicking myself that I didn’t have anything better to say. “What about you?”

“Yeah” she nodded without much conviction, “it’s good. I’m just glad it’s the Easter holidays now. I need to start revising as soon as I get home though,” she added, giving me a small smile.

“Yeah,” I replied, “me too.”

The silence fell again and I just wanted the ground to swallow me up. Things between me and Eleanor had always been a little awkward. Not because there was anything wrong with her, far from it, she was a lovely girl with a gentle personality and she absolutely adored Louis. The real problem was me. I hated being in her presence due to my guilt over being a fraud. The abuse Eleanor received on a daily basis from so called One Direction fans was ghastly. While I was for the most part showered with adoration and praise from the fans, Eleanor seemed to incite rage in them to no end. The Larry shippers were the worst. While I would receive abuse in about 1 in every 10 replies from fans, Eleanor would get abuse in 9 in every 10. Although I knew the other band members knew about mine and Harry’s relationship being fake (they went on tour with him, they saw what he got up to), I wasn’t sure what Louis had told Eleanor, but she always acted a bit funny around me. Maybe it was simply because I projected my guilt about being in a fake relationship when she got abuse every single day, when really, her relationship with Louis was one of the most genuine I’d ever seen. I was the real beard yet that was the label she had been lumped with.

Danielle cleared her throat, “Maybe tomorrow we can all go shopping?” she said cheerily. Perrie and Eleanor nodded in agreement and they started chatting excitedly about which shops they wanted to visit. I silently thanked God for Danielle. She’d known about me and Harry being a cover-up ever since she’d found me crying in the toilets at one of the boys’ concerts 6 weeks after me and Harry started “dating”. I’d been in the audience, quite enjoying myself when somebody had shoved a camera in my face and taken a photo. After that it was pandemonium, people scrambling over each other to get a photo of ‘Harry Styles’ new girlfriend’. I’d run off to the toilet backstage where eventually Danielle had found me. As soon as she rubbed my back and gave me a cuddle that was it, the whole story had come tumbling out. I’d been so petrified of what Modest would do if they found out I’d told that I made Danielle promise not to tell anyone about fifteen times, she had given me her word and to this day she had kept it. We might not have been best friends but I knew Danielle was someone I could trust.

The girls began to natter about which shops they wanted to go to tomorrow and what sights they wanted to see as I shrank back into the chair in silence. I know I didn’t make myself exactly likable to them but I just found it so hard to pretend to be part of their club when I just wasn’t. I fished my phone out of my pocket and began to fiddle around for lack of something to do. I pulled up my twitter app to see what was being said about me now. I’d been photographed at the airport by a few fans (no paparazzi thankfully, Modest hadn’t wanted people to know I wasn’t on the same flight) and they’d inevitably made their way online already. I brought up one of the photos I had been tagged in and grimaced. It wasn’t the best. It had been taken from below while I was signing an autograph for a fan (god knows why they wanted my autograph but I always obliged nevertheless), I had puffy eyes from the long flight and my double chin seemed to have taken on a life of its own. My hair was sticking up in all directions and my makeup had rubbed off on the flight leaving a large red spot on my chine very visible. Underneath the comments were unbelievably complementary: ‘I love @GraceMcQ she’s so cute look at her hair!’ ‘I love how normal @GraceMcQ looks in this photo #naturalbeauty’ ‘shes one of us haha @GraceMcQ look at her cute little double chin!’. However only one comment caught my eye, there twittername was @stylinsonisreal, which should have been warning enough for me not to read it but I was never one to take my own advice. ‘Look at @GraceMcQ what a fat bitch. At least the other beard is skinny #UGLYPIG’. I read the tweet, and then read it again. The more I read it the bigger the pit grew in my stomach. This wasn’t the first time I’d received hate from a fan, yet it was usually general insults about how much they despised me generally, they weren’t usually this personal. I looked up as Perrie laughed loudly at a comment that Danielle had made and broke out into a cold sweat. Even in the middle of a laughter fit Perrie was beautiful, her icy blue eyes shining as she clapped her hands together. Her skirt had ridden up a little as she had leaned back exposing her miniscule thighs. Perrie’s outburst set the other two off into a fit of giggles and I watched as Danielle’s nose crinkled up as she laughed, and she showed off her perfectly straight white teeth. Eleanor flipped her luscious hair over her shoulder as she giggled with her perfectly manicured, dainty hand. I suddenly felt like I had to get out of this room, away from these absurdly perfect girls. I stood up abruptly but as I reached the door it opened and the boys came pilling in.

Zayn almost slammed into me but I stepped back at the last second. They seemed to be in good spirits, laughing as they entered the room, Liam, Louis and Zayn making their way over to see their respective girlfriends. Niall greeted me with a hug which I returned somewhat awkwardly. Lastly Harry entered. His face was a little flushed, as if he had been running around and he was wearing a navy t-shirt that brought out the colour in his eyes. He looked incredible and suddenly I felt sick with the thought that I didn’t deserve to have someone like Harry in my life, even as a friend. He went to hug me; one hand reaching for my face as if to kiss me but I turned my face instinctively. More people were crowding into the tiny room now; Paul, Lou, Josh, and of course Lisa. There were other people too, some who I knew the names of and others I didn’t. All I was certain of was that I didn’t want to be around any of them.

Harry pulled away and looked at me quizzically. I averted my eyes guiltily.

“You okay?” he asked, leaning in so close I could feel his breath on my neck.

I nodded, my mouth in a tight line. I was afraid that if I opened it I’d be sick everywhere.

He looked as me incredulously but didn’t say anything. He spotted my suitcase in the corner of the room, “Did you come straight from the airport?” I nodded again, acutely aware of the buzzing talk going on around us. “You must be exhausted, come on let’s get it to the hotel. We’ve got some time before the show cause our interview got cancelled.”

I allowed Harry to lead me out the room and down the winding corridors to the back entrance and into a huge car park. There were fans pressed up against the gates but they were too far away to make out what they were saying, probably how ugly I was. They went wild when they saw us but Harry ignored them and bundled me into a car that had apparently been waiting.

As soon as the car doors were safely shut Harry was onto me. “What’s up? You looked scared stiff in there.”

I shook my head but couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eye. Lying to Harry was always hard and I hated doing it; “Nothing, I just don’t feel well that’s all. It must have been the long flight. Plus I’m a bit worried about exams.”

As soon as I mentioned my university work Harry’s bit his lip guiltily and I knew he’d taken the bait. “I’m really sorry about this Gracie, I told Modest that you didn’t want to come but they wouldn’t hear it,” he said in a hushed tone, so as the driver wouldn’t hear.

“When do they ever?” I replied, forcing a smile.

The car journey was only quick but the hordes of fans fan waiting outside the venue and then the hotel made for slow going. There were barriers holding the majority of them back but some threw themselves into the road trying to get to the car. I jumped in fright when one girl broke free and slammed her hands against the car window but she was soon carted off by security. When we eventually managed to pull up outside the hotel the noise was deafening. American fans were always more exuberant than the British fans. As Harry got up to open the door I checked myself, making sure I had my happy girlfriend face on before we exited. Harry led my by the hand again, my suitcase in the other. The crowd when absolutely nuts when they saw us together. Most of them were unintelligible screams but I managed to pick a few things out. I thought I heard a few cries of “bitch!” and “slut” but I couldn’t tell if that was just my mind playing cruel tricks on me.

Once inside the safety of the hotel lobby I pulled my clammy hand out of Harry’s and made for the lift. The hotel room was on one of the top floors for more security, lest anyone find a way to climb the drainpipes and make it through a window. The room was a double; Modest didn’t want to arouse suspicion by booking two doubles or two singles, so me and Harry were to share a bed. We had done this before and I was usually fine but suddenly the thought of Harry seeing me in my pyjamas, or asleep was making me uncomfortable. What if he thought I was ugly?

I flopped facedown down on the bed and Harry gently laid my suitcase down. “I’m going to go take a shower,” I said, my voice muffled by the sheets, “it was a long flight and I’m feeling kind of smelly so if you need the toilet now is the time.”

Harry nodded pensively as if it were the best idea he’d heard in a while and went off to the bathroom. As he did I retrieved my soap-bag from my suitcase, fishing out all the things I’d need.

Harry remerged a minute later, “I was going to do a poo but I know how annoyed you get if I stink out the bathroom before you use it so I refrained.” He looked particularly proud of himself and normally that would have made me cackle but today I just thanked him quietly and scurried off to the bathroom.

I closed the door but didn’t lock it, Harry was funny about that. he’d once been stuck in a public toilet with a faulty lock when he was a kid and now he hated it when people locked door unnecessarily, which included using the toilet. He was very embarrassed about it and didn’t like telling people but I found it endearing. I knew he’d never walk in on me so it didn’t particularly bother me.

I turned on the shower but instead of undressing and getting in I put the lid of the toilet down and sat on it. Pulling my phone from my pocket I pulled up twitter again. That tweet was the last thing I’d looked at and it was there waiting for me. I read it over and over again, the pit in my stomach growing deeper. By now it had been retweeted 46 times. That was 46 people who agreed; I was an ugly, fat pig. Tentatively I pulled Google up and did something I’d never done, and had promised myself and Harry I would never do. My name brought up a few news stories at the top, paparazzi photos of Harry and I doing various coupley things. I clicked the next link down which directed me to Tumblr. There was a voice inside my head screaming ‘NO! This is a bad idea!’ but I had never been one to take my own advice.

Before I got a chance to see what was written Harry called through the door, “Grace I’m ordering room service do you want anything?”

My stomach had been growling since I’d stepped on the plane in JFK but the words ‘FAT PIG’ were ingrained into my brain. “No thanks!” I called back as cheerily as I could.

“Are you sure? They have curly fries, they’re your favourite!”

“I’m good!” I hollered back, a little more curtly than I’d intended.

“Alright” I head Harry mutter to himself, “But can you hurry up, I still need that poo!”

I ignored him and turned back to my phone. I wish I hadn’t. They absolutely tore me to pieces. They criticised every minute detail about me, from the way I stood, to the way my hair fell, to the way I held my drink in my hand. There were huge posts comparing me to the other girlfriends and celebrities, simply to show how ugly and fat I was. There were posts full of pictures and gifs of me and Harry, which “proved” that he was actually repulsed my me and only dated me because he felt sorry for me. They slated what I wore, the places I shopped at, even my university choice. Some even hypothesised that my youngest brother Sean was really my son, as pregnancy fat was the only way to account for my humongous figure. I could feel the tears welling in my eyes and spilling onto my cheeks but I couldn’t stop reading. The time and the effort these “fans” put into hating me was absurd. And yet I felt every word was true.

I’d always believed I was liked by the majority of the fans, but I suddenly realised I just hadn’t been looking in the right places. I was despised.

Without any warning Harry burst into the room, one hand covering his eyes, the other reaching out blindly in front of him, “Right I’m sorry but I just can’t wait! I’m not looking I promise but you’re just going to have to bear with me for two minutes…okay maybe a little longer I think it’s a big one.”

“Oh!” I cried, jumping out of my seat fast, but not fast enough. Harry’s whipped his hand away from his eyes when he sensed I wasn’t actually in the shower.

“Hey what are you doing haven’t you even-” he stopped when he saw the tears streaming down my face, clutching my phone protectively to my chest.

I furiously tried to wipe the tears off of my cheeks but it was in vain. “Grace what’s wrong? What’s happened?”

“Nothing,” I replied quickly, too quickly.

“It’s obviously not nothing, you’ve been sat in here pretending to shower for twenty minutes when you’ve really been crying, it’s obviously something.”

I shook my head and turned to get some toilet paper to dry my eyes, “I don’t want to talk about it,” I mumbled, my brain too overloaded to even try and think of a lie.

Harry quietly walked over to the shower to switch off the running water. His jumper sleeve got wet in the process but he didn’t seem to care. He waited patiently as I blew my nose loudly, even dispensing of the snotty tissue for me.

“Harry honestly its fine,” I said, walking out into the bedroom, wanting to get out of the cramped bathroom and away from Harry’s knowing stare. On the bed was a half-eaten bacon sandwich and a plate of curly fries. I sat in the bed and shoved the plate away roughly, “I said I didn’t want any food.”

“Stop deflecting,” he said flatly as he went over to sit on the other side of the bed. I had my back to him but I could feel him staring at me.

“I’m not deflecting!” I turned suddenly to face him, “I just don’t want to eat is that okay with you?!”

I was very rarely rude to Harry, or anyone, and Harry’s face crinkled in confusion and annoyance. He hated it when I kept things from him. “I don’t have to explain every little thing to you!”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” his tone was sharp but his body language gave him away. He was just pretending to play my game; I could see his hand reach out for mine before he corrected himself.

“You’re not my boyfriend Harry why do you care so much!?” As I said it a fresh wave of tears overcame me and cascaded down my face. This time Harry didn’t stop himself from reaching for me. He pulled me properly on to the bed, cradled in his arms. My head was against his chest and I could hear his heart hammering. “I’m sorry,” I wept pathetically, “I’m so sorry. I’m so stupid and ugly and fat and you don’t deserve to have to put up with someone like me.”

His hand moved from where it had been rubbing my back to cup my chin gently. When I looked up at him his brow was furrowed in confusion, “Grace what? What are you talking about? What’s brought this on?”

I moved my face away from his hand and back into his chest again. His wet sleeve was resting on my shoulder, making me shiver slightly. Harry pulled me closer as I did. “I…” I’d done exactly what I’d promised Harry I never would. Look at what people on the internet say about me.

“I got a tweet…it was so nasty. I couldn’t help it; I wanted to see what people really thought about me, not just what you tell me they think. They…they hate me Harry! I don’t know what I ever did to them.”

I felt him inhale sharply. “I’m sorry, I know I promised you but…they’re right Harry. I am ugly and I am fat!”

Harry pulled away and placed a hand on either side of my face. He looked serious, more serious than I’d ever seen him. Suddenly I wondered if I’d upset him by breaking the promise. Or if he was just angry at me because it had taken me so long to figure out what he’d known all along; he was way out of my league.

“I want you to listen to me very carefully,” he said in a stern voice, with his green eyes staring at me so intently I wanted to look away but thought better of it. “Don’t you ever, ever believe those things that they say on the internet okay? They’re written by nasty, jealous, spiteful girls who don’t have the right to call themselves fans. And most of all they’re liars. You’re not fat and you’re not ugly, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen and I’m not lying.”

“Yes you are. What about all those girls you-”

He shook his head, “Those girls I sleep with, yeah they’re nice to look at, but that’s all they’re good for. Most of their faces are plastered with so much makeup I don’t even know what they really look like. But they don’t make me laugh, they don’t know how many sugars I like in my tea. They don’t sing along to my favourite songs in the car with me, even if they hate them. They’re not so clever that they keep me up until four in the morning thinking about something they’ve said. Their eyes don’t light up when they talk about their families and their hair isn’t all messy in the morning. They don’t arm wrestle me to decide who gets the TV remote. They don’t run me a bath with bath salts in even though I say I don’t like them cause they know I secretly do. Their noses don’t crinkle when they laugh. They don’t leave me the last packet of salt and vinegar crisps because they know they’re my favourite, even though they’re their favourite too. They don’t encourage me to sign up to online classes cause they think I’m clever and should have an education to fall back on. They’re just not you. Only you are you and you’re the best, most beautiful, most intelligent person I know. And I love you.”

And then he kissed me.


	9. Chapter Nine

I was sat between Lou and Danielle, watching the boys perform. I had the bouncing Lux in my lap to help distract me from the concert. She had her cute little earmuffs on but was still dancing along to every song. Occasionally I look up at the performance but as soon as my eyes landed on Harry I would feel the burn of his kiss still lingering on my lips and I’d turn away again, my cheeks flushed.

I didn’t know what I was getting so worked up about; I had kissed Harry hundreds of times before. But this time had been different. It had been a real kiss. Not a staged kiss in front of flashing cameras and screaming fans. It had just been me and him; his hands softly cupping my face. It had been a gentle kiss, his soft lips pressed tenderly against mine, his heavy exhale of breath tickling my face. I hadn’t kissed back, not at first, but just as quickly as it had happened, it was over.

“Are you going to shower for real then? We’ve got to leave in about an hour,” he’d said, climbing off the bed as if all we’d been doing was watching TV.

“Uh,” I’d replied dumbly, still stuck in the same position.

In the shower I’d wracked my brain for some sort of explanation for Harry’s actions but I couldn’t. Why had he kissed me? There had never been any sexual tension between us, and I was almost certain the only feelings he had for me were strictly platonic. But that kiss… There’d been something else in it, hope, desperations, longing; I couldn’t work it out. I traced my lips gently with my fingertips, still feeling the ghost of his.

In the cab to the venue he’d been normal; rambling on about some restaurant here in the city he wanted to try. I tried my best to sound interested but I was finding it hard to even look at him without a blush creeping up my neck. Once we arrived Harry had been whisked off straight away to get ready so I’d once again found myself in the company of Eleanor, Danielle and Perrie. I’d apologised for my swift exit earlier, telling them I’d felt queasy. They all cooed over me, and Perrie joked that I might be pregnant. I’d laughed along even though it was the last thing I wanted to do.

As we’d found our seats in the venue Lou had leaned over and asked if I was alright as I was looking a little pale. I’d nodded enthusiastically, lifting Lux out of her lap, hoping the lively toddler would distract me from my thoughts. What was I meant to say? ‘Erm yes please help me my boyfriend kissed me what should I do?’

‘Kiss You’ had just ended and I was bouncing Lux on my knee as she was clapping. “Well done Luxie,” I cooed.

“Mama,” she promptly replied, reaching her chubby little arms out to Lou.

“Oh,” I pouted exaggeratedly as I handed her over to her mother.

“The next song is a special song,” Harry voice boomed around the arena as thousands of girls started screaming hysterically. With no distraction on my lap I had no choice but to look up. “It’s a song that means a lot to me, and I’d like to dedicate it to someone very special here in the audience tonight.”

Suddenly I felt the burning spotlight on my face. The glare from the light made it impossible to see anything. I must have looked like a deer caught in headlights. From the sounds of the ecstatic screams and scattered boos every eye in the arena was now on me. It was too late to get up and leave. I tried to smile but it was more of a grimace.

“I want to dedicate this song to my beautiful girlfriend, she is the best thing that ever happened to me and I love her more than anything.” The screams became deafening at this point and I glanced pleadingly at Danielle, who shrugged apologetically.

“I love you babe, this is Little Things.”

The spotlight slowly faded off of me but the flashing of fan’s cameras remained. It was all I could do not to bolt from my seat. Harry had never done anything like that before, I much enjoyed watching him perform with the boys but hated it when the whole concert was marred by fans around me slyly trying to take photos of me when they thought I wasn’t looking. Modest had a few times asked Harry to give me a shoutout during a concert, so I could smile and look embarrassed, but I’d always requested he didn’t, to which he obliged.

I tried to sit calmly through the rest of the show but I was finding it unbearable. There was a girl of about sixteen or seventeen seated two rows in front of me who had given up trying to snap photos of me secretly and was outright snapping in my face, no doubt eager to get home and put them on her blog where they could all make fun of how fat and ugly I was. It was all I could do not to slap the phone out of her hand. I knew the show was almost at an end so I decided if I left now it wouldn’t cause too much of a controversy. I told Danielle and Lou I would meet them backstage and smiled at Perrie and Eleanor as I walked past them. However instead of heading backstage as I’d said, I found a fire exit and stepped out into the cool New York night. I didn’t have a jacket with me and as soon as the cold air hit me and the door swung shut behind me I regretted this decision. I just wanted to be away from Harry and his soft lips and raspy voice and his toned chest and… I thought my head was going to explode.

As the concert was still going the streets were busy enough for me to blend into the crowd but not so busy that I got mobbed. It was astonishing the way that without all the fanfare or security or paparazzi people just didn’t even notice you. I was freely able to walk down the street without anyone taking so much as a second glance at me. 

I walked past a lively bar with a neon sign outside, cursing the fact I was only nineteen and couldn’t drink in the States. Harry and the boys always had ways around that I knew but I didn’t want to see them right now. I didn’t want to be a part of any of that farce. I just wanted to be me.

I wasn’t sure where I was going but I carried on walking anyway. New York was one of my favourite cities. I loved the way it was so crowded and busy. You could only imagine how many different cultures and personalities and stories you would find in one small area. I was pretty sure no one had a story like mine though.

A young couple were walking towards me hand-in-hand. The girl was plain looking, with mousy brown hair and slightly crooked teeth. The guy was slightly more handsome with piercing blue eyes. If they had looked up they would have caught me staring but they were too consumed in each other to notice me. The girl was laughing at something the guy had said, her face leaned into his, not caring about her crooked teeth as she smiled widely at him. He was staring back at her, as if she were the only person in the whole of New York. They passed me quickly and I felt a pang of loneliness in my heart. I wanted that. I wanted to be with someone who loved me, who wasn’t just paid to pretend they love me. Someone where I didn’t have to care about my little insecurities with them because they were part of the reason they loved me. I thought angrily back to Harry and how he had dedicated Little Things to me. He didn’t mean that, those lyrics weren’t his words, they were written by someone else and he’d just applied them to me in hope of looking like a caring, loving boyfriend. I had been with Harry for over a year and a half yet in all that time he had slept with countless women, where I hadn’t been with anyone. I’d sat diligently like an idiot, doing what I was told, putting my whole life on hold so he could get his kicks. He would take me to dinner and smile sweetly at the camera like a man in love, but at the end of the night he was off fucking some other girl and I was where I always was; alone.

My phone started ringing from my handbag but I ignored it. It was either going to be Harry or management and I was loath to speak to either at that moment, lest I wanted to lose my job. When it finally stopped ringing I slowed down slightly and plucked it out of my bag to see if they’d left a message. However the missed call on my phone was from an unknown number with a dialling code I didn’t recognise. I was wondering if maybe Modest were using a local phone to ring me when I got a text through from the same number.

‘Hi Grace it’s Alfie. I know we haven’t spoke in a while but I heard you were in New York and I’m living here for a year as part of my degree and wondered if you wanted to meet up at some point if you had the time? Let me know xxx’

I stopped in my tracks and stared at the screen, dumbstruck. My heart began pounding in my chest. Alfie.

I stuffed the phone in my bag again and carried on walking, only to stop a few short paces later and retrieve it.

Alfie; management would be apoplectic if they knew I had met up with him but there was a distant, long-forgotten tugging on my heart string. Alfie was my first. Well my only boyfriend if you were counting real ones. We had dated from the ages of sixteen to eighteen until he had decided to attend university in Edinburgh, while I had remained in London. It had been an amicable split, but as these things went we’d lost touch. I occasionally heard tidings of him from old school friends but no one had mentioned to me that he was doing a year abroad in New York.

We had only been broken up for a month and a half before I’d been thrown headfirst into a farcical relationship with Harry. My head had been so filled with my new life that I hadn’t had time to mourn the ending of my relationship with Alfie. I had simply assumed I’d gotten over it but now, as I saw the words on screen a strange, sad feeling came over me.

Before I could change my mind I hit redial and listened eagerly to the ringing.

“Hello?” a deep voice answered. I swear my knees went week and I almost collapsed in the middle of the street.

“Hi Alf,” I said quietly.

“I’m really glad you called,” I could tell me was smiling from the way he said it. Alfie was always smiling, he was the most carefree person in the world. He was the one who taught me how to relax and just enjoy life.

“Does the offer to meet up still stand?” I scuffed my shoe on the pavement shyly, even though he couldn’t see me.

He laughed and it was so beautiful and I found myself wondering if I’d ever heard a better sound. “Of course it does! We have a lot to catch up on! Come to my flat, I’ve managed to get a hold of some wine.”

“Sounds good.” The butterflies in my stomach were becoming more rampant with every word he said.

“I’m assuming the megastar boyfriend is busy, or shall I set out three glasses?”

In the lift at Alfie’s apartment I checked myself in the mirror. I had dressed nicely for the concert, wearing a mint green blouse from H&M and skin tight black jeans that I was sure even Harry would have trouble fitting into. Eleanor had let me borrow a pair of her heeled Topshop boots so I was looking slightly taller than usual. I had my blond hair in a bun on top of my head, and a lick of mascara and eyeliner to complete the look. The recent criticisms of my looks and weight had made me extra conscious of how I looked and presented myself.

The lift pinged at his floor and I stepped out, mentally preparing myself for what was about to happen. I knew it was wrong. In the deep dark corner of my mind I knew it was wrong. But right now I didn’t give a shit. If Harry got to act like an arsehole then so did I. I marched over to door number 704, rapping at it eagerly.

A few short moments later the door swung open and I swear my heart stopped. Aflie. He was taller than I remembered, at least 6”4. He had cut his shaggy blond hair until it was just a short quiff on the top of his head. He had clearly been working out, as was painfully highlighted by the fact he’d chosen to answer the door without thinking to put a shirt on. The dark grey sweats he was wearing hung low on his hips, extenuating the ‘V’ shaped muscle leading down to his groin.

“Hiya Grace,” he smiled breezily, as if I were a friend who popped round regularly. 

I nodded curtly before walking round him and inviting myself into his flat, “I was told you have wine? Where is it cause I am in serious need right now.”

I heard him laugh and push the door shut as I walked into the small living room and collapsed on one of the sofas, throwing my handbag dramatically onto the one opposite.

“Lovely to see you too, I can see you’re polite as ever.”

“Wine,” I said pointedly, “and then we can talk.”

He laughed again and it was such an easy laugh it made me wonder why anything was ever complicated. He moved off into the small kitchenette while my eyes wondered around the room. It was a small place; opened planned with two doors leading off the right and one on the left. I peered into the two doors on the right and saw they were both bedrooms. One was immaculate, the bed made and everything stacked neatly onto the shelves. The other looked like a bombsite, with clothes strewn everywhere and an empty pizza box on the unmade bed where a pillow would usually be. It wasn’t difficult for me to work out which one was Alfie’s, no wonder he couldn’t locate a shirt in that dump.

“Got a roommate then?” I asked Alfie as he handed me a coffee mug filled to the brim with red wine. I didn’t even bat an eyelid, I was a student myself; I would have been more surprised if he’d handed me an actual wineglass.

“Yeah some kid from Australia called Derek, doing the same course as me so he’s doing a year abroad too.”

I nodded and took a big gulp of wine as Alfie settled down on the sofa next to me, curling his legs up underneath him in a way that was so fucking relaxed I wanted to scream. How come his life was always so easy!

“He’s taken a weekend trip to Connecticut or something. All I know is I’ve got the whole place to myself.”

“Oh yeah?” I teased, raising an eyebrow over my mug. I took another drink, not so much of a gulp this time.

“Yeah…” he replied, doing nothing to try and hide the fact his eyes were trailing up and down my body. Had it been anyone else I would have been highly uncomfortable, but this was Alfie. He had seen parts of me that no one else in the world had. Physically and mentally.

“And your boyfriend…is he around?” he continued, eyes shining playfully over his own mug. He shifted so his legs were now on the sofa in front of him, feet burrowing under my own legs as if it was nothing.

I snorted, eyeing his movements. I considered telling Alfie that Harry wasn’t really my boyfriend but that would take too long and it was such a complicated story that would elicit too many questions. Plus this felt kind of exciting; like I was doing something terribly bad that no one must ever know about. It was, in a way. “Nah, he’s off attending to his adoring fans. Or making a dumb Vine. One of those most probably.”

Alfie whistled exaggeratedly, “Damn girl, you sound bitter.” I giggled at his shoddy attempt at an American accent.

I shook my head I stared at my hands, “I may feel a lot of emotions towards Harry, but jealousy isn’t one of them let me assure you.” I had meant it as a light-hearted joke but it had come out more harshly than I’d intended and the mood instantly darkened.

“Hey,” Alfie muttered, shifting so his side was now connected with mine, his heat radiating off of him, making my skin feel electric, “C’mere.” I let him put his arm around me and leant my head against his shoulder while he rubbed my back gently. It felt so familiar it was like I was 16 again and in the throes of an intoxicating lust that could understand or seem to get a handle on so just went along with. Alfie’s smell intoxicated me, he hadn’t changed his cologne since he was sixteen which I found endearing. I closed my eyes and let it all wash over me.

“I don’t want to do it anymore Alf, it’s too hard. Like with you, it was all so easy; I just had to let it happen. But with Harry, it’s-” I struggled to find the right words, “It’s- I have to think about every action, everything I say, everything I do, everything I wear. It’s just-” My voice was dangerously close to cracking and I cleared my throat to rein it back in; this was not what I came here for. “The negatives are starting to outweigh the positives.” It was the first time I had admitted it out loud but the thought had been niggling away in the back of my mind for weeks now. After what happened with my brothers, then with the girl in the club and what Alex had said. Honestly, being Harry’s (fake) girlfriend just wasn’t fun anymore. And for all the love I had for Harry, I couldn’t let him and his insatiable appetite for sex get in the way of me living my life. Coming here tonight and seeing Alfie brought home everything I was missing out on. A healthy relationship with someone who cared about me and me only. Not someone who would dry my tears with one hand and grabbing onto another woman’s breast with the other.

I shook my head, shaking myself out of my thoughts. “Anyway,” I said merrily, lifting my head from Alfie’s shoulder and turning to look him in the eye. He was a lot closer than I had anticipated and our noses were almost touching as his warm breath tickled my face, “That’s another worry for another day. I am however only in New York for a brief amount of and there are more pressing issues at hand.”

“If by pressing you mean my dick against my pants then yeah, you’re right.”

“Alfie!” I scolded but I couldn’t help but laugh. His boyish charm had always appealed to me, even when he was being an idiot.

“Sorry,” he muttered, adopting a faux-serious face. “If you want it to go away just keep talking about your dumb boyfriend; it’s a real turn-off.”

I rolled my eyes at his childlike teasing and leant my face in even further so our lips were only millimetres apart, “Just kiss me you arsehole.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note about this chapter; I decided to forego the sex scene as it wasn’t with Harry/anyone else interesting but I’m sure you can all use your imaginations and if you hold on there will be sexytime soon!

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! Kudos and comments are always appreciated!


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